Trust Me
by Thrintje
Summary: Short and not so sweet stream of consciousness. HPDM SLASH, ambiguous consent


**DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing and I'm making no money from this

**RATING:** R for a reason, this is slash and consent is ambiguous. If you don't like it don't read it

**Trust Me**

I can feel your hands everywhere, sometimes clutching so hard at me that I know there'll be bruises by the morning. You're lying behind me, your fingers running over my skin as I feign sleep; hoping that you might give up. Your breath is hot on my neck, trailing wet and sloppy kisses which leave me cold, and you're persistent; not letting me go. It was always that way between us wasn't it? You never quite being able to handle a lack of control or power. You didn't know how to have things any other way.

You shift closer and I remember every word you said to me, as though I hadn't heard a spoken voice in years and that it was the last thing I had ever heard and the thing I would remember forever.

_'Trust me.'_

_'I would never hurt you.'_

_'I promise I won't touch you.'_

You promised, you promised, you promised! And yet here you are with your hands in places I never wanted you to know and your lips on my neck and your body pressed against mine. I can't quite believe that you're doing this, but at the same time how could I blame you? Trust, promises, none of it matters when you do this to me because you're lonely and you're angry and you're sad. Why shouldn't I let you?

As I turn in your arms to meet you, I know that this is my fault; that in some way I've driven you to this brutality that you can't even see. I punish myself by kissing you, because it's wrong and it's right and I hate you.

I shouldn't feel so cold, with you burning beside me, but I can't help but shiver as I feel your hair tickle my face. I imagine that my toes are turning blue and curl them under to make sure that they're still there, as if that even matters anymore. My arms and legs could freeze and I wouldn't care, because you'd still be here.

One kiss, one movement, one touch, and you want me more than ever, I can _feel_ it. But you promised and I trusted you.

There's heat all around me now and it's all from you, but all I can feel is that same aching cold that tells me that I'm not quite alive anymore because it's spreading and isn't stopping as I punish myself over and over. You whisper something in my ear but it's meaningless because all I can hear is your laboured breathing.

As you move above me I let my head fall back and I see pictures staring at me from where they are pinned to the wall. Row upon row of moving faces and people who are watching me; witnessing my shame, and as I break I begin to wonder if I'm the only one you've ever made feel this way.

You're so heavy, I never thought you would be, and I push feebly at your shoulders, but you don't understand and I can't speak because my voice is stuck in my throat, swallowed up by everything that you're doing. I never asked, never begged or pleaded, why can't you see it in my eyes?

I close my eyes to block out the images of people I know and wish that I wasn't me and wish that I hadn't started any of this, I wish that it wasn't my fault that you're doing this to me; destroying me with something I never wanted from you. I feel myself start to drift away, as though there's some way that I can escape this without even moving.

My eyes snap open in pain and I'm pulled right back to your face as a hoarse cry that you mistake as pleasure falls from my lips. I can't believe you just did that to me. I try to look at anything but you, a huge dark shape that is crushing me with the weight of everything that you've become, but you're everywhere. All I can see is you because you're in my face and you forced yourself back into my world when I didn't need you anymore. Two years without magic or pain or a need for thought beyond anything more than the mundane and you dragged it all back to me with your empty words and comfort that in the end meant nothing more than a means to an end.

But I've always been weak, a coward; always so angry at everything and nothing, with no way of escaping it. And here, here you've offered me a means of pain, something rhythmical and wrong to focus on. Something real that could define me if I let it.

So I punish myself as I touch you, digging my anger into your back with my fingernails. I punish myself as I kiss you again, my tongue leaving its trail of bitterness and bile. And most of all I hurt myself by letting you do this to me: the one thing you promised you never would.

You gaze down at me in the moment before I break wide open, your hand stroking me a constant and rhythmical reminder of exactly who you are, green eyes full of wonderment, and you whisper something that sounds very much like my name.

"Draco."

But all I can hear is the smacking of your lips as you lean down to kiss me once more.

_Fin_

A/N: Comments are always appreciated!!


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